


Start (As You Mean To Go On)

by Redlance



Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-05
Updated: 2015-12-05
Packaged: 2018-05-04 23:50:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5352965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Redlance/pseuds/Redlance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are a lot of traditions to be upheld within the Bella household, Beca learns. And not just at Christmas time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Start (As You Mean To Go On)

**Author's Note:**

> **A/N** : Written for my good friend Theresa.

* * *

It was, as Beca would be told many times between Chloe first informing her of the fact and over the next four years, not only a Barden tradition but a Bella tradition as well. Freshman Beca had questioned the order of priority in that statement, noting that, surely, the tradition of the school would come first over the tradition of what was for all intents and purposes, “a glorified glee club”.

 

Senior Beca of course knows how wrong her younger self was, especially in Chloe's eyes.

 

Barden, while undoubtedly a good school where a person could garner a more than adequate education, was, in Chloe's eyes, the setting. And The Bellas, well, they were the main event. They were why Chloe was here, why she's still here, almost four years later, playing the role of Super Senior like she was born for it.

 

Bella tradition was second to none and Beca has learned to roll with that and, more or less, all that entails since becoming an unwilling member after a last minute audition. Truth be told, outside of the absurd 'tradition' of not partaking in relationships with Treblemakers, the rest of them were fine. Some were even fun.

 

The Saint Patrick's Day Pub Crawl, for example, was unarguably a good time for all, providing you didn't try to best Amy in an “I bet I can drink more Guinness than you” competition. And while Beca didn't particularly enjoy baking or cooking, or really anything that involved spending an extended amount of time in the kitchen, the annual pre-Thanksgiving Dinner holds a special place in her heart. Every year, they all pitch in to help prepare and then devour the mean, before jetting off home for the holiday itself and it has given her more than a handful of fond memories to look back on. Not the least of which being the flour fight she and Chloe had 'accidentally' started and then dragged the rest of the girls into with their screams. The fiasco had ended with the entire kitchen and half of the sitting room being covered like Christmas morning and a rather expensive dry-cleaning bill.

 

There are plenty of Christmas traditions too, right down to specific dates for when the tree and decorations go up and then how gifts are procured and produced. There are movies that are to be viewed annually during the year-round traditional Bella Bonding Movie Nights and an entire list of festive-themed traditions that Chloe adheres to with the kind of heart-warming smile that renders all incapable of telling her no. Of course, Beca had tried.

 

At first.

 

She tries a lot less these days.

 

She'd like to blame it on growing up, on wising with age and understanding that being an unrepentant, sarcastic little shit doesn't always get you everywhere you want to go in life. But she can't quite manage to convince herself that it's all down to that.

 

Not when that heart-warming smile of Chloe's reaches right inside her own chest every time she sees it and reminds Beca exactly why she's watching' The Notebook for what has to be the fifteenth time or why she's wearing a headband with reindeer antlers sewn onto them.

 

Chloe, she thinks, is **her** Barden tradition in a way. Or, more specifically, Chloe being able to get her to do things she would normally never do. Yeah, Chloe getting her to do the most un-Beca-like stuff imaginable is Beca's own personal everyday tradition. Like attend one of those Halloween hayrides in the middle of a chilly fall evening where guys dressed up like maniac serial killers shave about ten years off of her life with actual, revving chainsaws or being dragged around the neighbourhood to sing Christmas carols wearing one of those dumb woollen hats with the ear flaps and fuzzy baubles perched on the very top.

 

Falling completely head-over-heels in love with her best friend.

 

That sort of thing.

 

Chloe's really good at that.

 

New Years is not short on tradition, either. It may not have quite as many as Christmas or Thanksgiving, but it might just have the most important Bella-specific tradition of all.

 

“ _No, it's actually really cool. We set up this huge bonfire... okay, it's really kind of small compared to ones back home, but back in ninety-nine the one they hosted got kind of out of hand and almost burnt down the house, so they've set limitations. But anyway, there's a bonfire and mulled wine and marshmallows, and Christmas is still kind of lingering so it's still sort of magical, and then there are fireworks and... it's just... really great.”_

 

That had been how Chloe had first pitched New Years Eve and, honestly, it had sounded closer to a giant fire hazard than 'great', but Beca's arm had been twisted by bright blue eyes and she'd gone along with it. That had been the first time she'd seen the Bella house, been inside, and she and the rest of the girls had spent the night on the concrete patio out back, huddled under blankets on pool loungers stolen from next door. The fire had been nice and contained, controlled, and a large number of marshmallows had gotten burnt because they were too busy laughing, and when Aubrey had gotten up to do the captain-ly duty of lighting the fireworks, Beca hadn't known what to expect other than loud bangs and pretty colours.

 

She hadn't expected Chloe to flinch at the first few sets of bangs, only looking up at the sky after six or seven of the fireworks had gone off. Then, there's a change. And Beca hadn't expected Chloe's face to light up the way it did, nor had she expected bright blue eyes to glitter and glow like those of someone who was seeing fireworks for the first time in their life. She hadn't expected the thumping beat of her heart to increase tenfold when Chloe felt her stare and glanced around the bonfire at her, locking their gazes with a soft smile that Beca hadn't expected would affect her like it did. In a way that allows her to still remember the warmth of it, the way it had made her palms tingle and her stomach flip, three years down the line.

 

“So do you like, like these things or not?” She hears herself asking, quite without a thought towards the question, as she and Chloe cross the cement pad and stop in the middle of the open grassy area of their back yard. Chloe bends to put down the box she's carrying and casts Beca, who is mimicking her motions, a sidelong glance. Beca doesn't return the gaze, just absently scratches at her cheek and wonders if it looks as warm as it feels.

 

“Quite the wordsmith today.” Chloe straightens as Beca twists her mouth sheepishly to one side and tucks her hair behind her ear.

 

“Sorry, I just mean,” Beca toes the corner of her box, “like you're always so excited to set this stuff up but then when it's actually time to set them off...” she holds her hands up in front of her so that the palms are facing Chloe, fingers splayed, and then she adopts the kind of expression that belongs in a cheesy nineteen-fifties sci-fi movie, worn by a twenty-something housewife who's being terrorized by a giant tarantula or refrigerator box robot. She even lets out a hushed yelp of feigned surprise; she mostly just speaks the “ah!” rather than screams it.

 

When Chloe laughs, a real laugh, one that is full and fuelled not only by her desire to make people feel good about themselves, her eyes crinkle at the corners. She jokes about crow's feet and whether or not they are actually something that currently exist, Beca thinks the sight gets more and more breathtaking every time she witnesses it. Now, Chloe chuckles, but the smile she wears is wide enough to have the same effect. Chloe looks down at her box with a thoughtful hum.

 

“I do. I do like them.” Beca watches as the redhead's arms reach back and around so that Chloe can slide her hands into the back pockets of her pants, thumbs hooked over the edges. “They just,” she turns her head towards Beca, wrinkling up her nose in embarrassment, and the brunette feels her palms start to sweat. Just a little. “They always scare me at first.” And because she's nervous, or flustered, or maybe just because she's an idiot, Beca laughs. Chloe's face falls and she immediately, obviously, wishes she was in possession of a time machine for this sole purpose alone.

 

“Shit, sorry, I didn't mean that to sound- I didn't mean to laugh.” Chloe flashes her a smile to tell her that it's okay and lifts her shoulders in a shrug.

 

“It's fine, I know it's silly.”

 

“It's not,” Beca hurries to amend, firm and certain. Because no matter what Chloe tells her, she's never going to think it's silly.

 

“Back home they'd have this big street-wide celebration on New Years Eve every year with food and fireworks, and my parents used to take me and my brother.” Beca stands, attention fixed on the redhead, hands shoved into the pockets of the light jacket she's wearing. “One year, I think I was about nine, he wanted to go stand with his friends and watch, but I wanted to go with him. He didn't want his little sister tagging along but mom and dad made him take me.” For a minute, Chloe looks like she's about to get lost in the memory, but then she shakes her head and takes a breath. “Anyway, it turned out that his friends were planning their own firework celebration. They had a whole box of them and one of the guys was messing around with a sparkler and something in the box caught fire.” She waves her hand through the air. “Everything went off and there I was, standing right next to it.” For an instant, all Beca feels is panic, and then she feels dumb because Chloe's standing in front of her and she knows her brother is still in possession of all his limbs, so chances are everything turned out fine. “Everyone was okay.” See? “But ever since then, the noise kind of bugs me a bit.” And it's a simple enough, valid explanation, but something about Chloe's delivery, the way she's standing and holding herself, makes her seem vulnerable. Like she hasn't told this story a lot. Like people haven't asked her to.

 

It makes Beca feel special, a little sad, a lot like she wants to hug her.

 

But Beca still doesn't know the best way to initiate that kind of thing, so what she ends up doing is reaching out and gently squeezing Chloe's arm. Just enough to say “I get it” and “that's not silly” and “I'm glad you told me”.

 

And the smile that Chloe gives her in return tells Beca that she doesn't need to do anything else. That that's enough.

 

Once night has fallen and the cool chill that accompanies most of the evenings now has settled in, once Stacie has gotten the fire started and has thrown her mittened-hands into the air, proclaiming herself “the shit” to anyone willing to listen, Beca knows it's time to head outside. They shuffle out single-file through the back door, the warmth of the bonfire reaching out to them to stave off the cold and beckon them closer. They don't have to steal from next door anymore, the success of the Bellas having funded their own plight for patio furniture, which has been set up in a semi circle around the fire. Everyone picks a spot, curls up beneath a thick fleece blanket that matches the one being held by the women beside them, and Amy breaks out the marshmallows as Cynthia Rose doles out the wine.

 

Beca can't imagine spending New Year's Eve any other way. She doesn't want to. So, it's hard for her to accept that this will be the last one she spends like this. She takes a sip from her cup and nudges the thought away, eyes sliding to their corners to catch sight of Chloe beside her, their chairs almost touching, laughing at something Flo has said. Cast half in light and half in shadow, Beca thinks campfire light looks good on her.

 

It's not the first time she's noticed.

 

“Okay guys, time to light them up.” Stacie, beanie pulled low over her ears, inclined her head towards Beca and Chloe. “You doing it again this year, Deejay Bee?” Because of course, Chloe never has. Always deferring to Beca as the “true” captain of the team with a sweet smile and no further explanation. This year, she knows better.

 

“Actually,” she pauses to set her cup down on the wide arm of the wicker chair she's sat in, then looks across the patio at Emily, “I was thinking maybe I'd let Em take the lead this year.” Emily looks like she might pass out or her eyes might fall out of her head. “You know, a practice run before she's got full control of the reins next year.” And she can always tell when Chloe is looking at her, most of the time anyway, it's like a sixth sense that makes her skin prickle. She feels it now, her gaze warming the side of Beca's face more than any fire ever could, yet it makes her shiver. She throws Emily an archly raised eyebrow.

 

“Uh, yes. Yes! Of course! Wow! This is so,” the youngest of them spends a few seconds gesturing with her hands, trying to pull the word she's looking for out of the air, “unexpected!”

 

“It's just lighting a few fireworks, Legacy. I’m not giving you control of the set lists.” Again, Emily's eyes bulge.

 

“Oh gosh, no. Of course not. I wouldn't dream-”

 

“Okay, girl.” Stacie throws off her blanket, exposing her pale pink pyjama bottoms with the sheep on them and dark purple puffer jacket and walks over. She holds her hands out towards Emily, who reaches up automatically to take them, and grins down at her. “Let's get you over there before **you** explode.” Sheepish, Emily allows Stacie to pull her up out of her seat and into her side, and Stacie wraps an arm around her as they set off towards the detonation point.

 

“It's weird watching Stacie walk beside someone who's the same height as her.” Beca muses, to no one in particular, quietly enough that Chloe's the only one who can hear. But Chloe doesn't respond to that.

 

“You love setting off the fireworks,” she mutters, pulling Beca's attention around until she's looking at Chloe head-on. She's wearing a beanie too, a baby-blue woollen one that her Grandma made her one year for Christmas, and her gentle frown is just visible beneath the bottom of it. “It's your favourite part of tonight.” And she's not wrong, Beca **does** love making things blow up, but that's never been her favourite part.

 

“Yeah,” she shrugs, “I just didn't want to move.” Chloe's eyes narrow skeptically and Beca waves a hand down at her blanket. “I have the perfect cocoon of warmth happening over here, nothing short of nuclear war is getting me to move right now.” Chloe purses her lips but begrudgingly accepts the answer and for a moment all is quiet over the crackling pop of the bonfire.

 

“I think we're ready over here!” Stacie yells over at them and Beca sees Chloe shift in her periphery. “We've got twenty seconds left of the year!”

 

“A'yo, don't let her blow you up!” Cynthia Rose rasps back. “You still owe me twenty bucks and stealing money from a corpse is not how I wanna start the new year!” They can't really make it out, but they see Stacie gesturing in the other woman's direction and assume the worst. Beca's flicks her eyes over the group, sees that their attention is fixed on the imminent display, and extends her arm. She wiggles her hand under the edge of Chloe's blanket and fumbles around for a few heart-stopping seconds until she finally finds Chloe's and latches onto it. Chloe's head snaps to the side, her fire-lit eyes bright and searching.

 

Beca doesn't say anything but she does glance over, and she catches the way Chloe's wonder shifts to pure happiness when Beca laces their gloved fingers together.

 

The first bang makes Chloe jump and Beca brushes her thumb back and forth over the top of her hand in smooth, even strokes.

 

“You know,” Beca whispers, dividing Chloe's attention between her and the sky above them, chewing her on lip for a second, “I have heard a rumour.” There's a second bang and Chloe stiffens this time, but doesn't jump, and Beca holds tighter to her hand. “That it's customary, tradition even,” her eyes flick down to where she can see Chloe's breath leaving her body, “to kiss someone right at midnight.” They dart back up just as three fireworks erupt in almost simultaneous showers of colour and this time, Chloe doesn't move.

 

She just stares at Beca, cerulean pools shimmering with more colours than the fireworks could ever hope to contain.

 

“You've heard that, huh?” She croaks after a moment and somewhere at the edges of her awareness, Beca can hear more explosions and the first number of a countdown being yelled. “I **do** really like traditions.” Cheeks burning, Beca ducks her head and nods, then tilts it to one side as a shaky but sure smile stretches across her lips.

 

“I've heard that, too.” There's an oddly echoed seven followed by a muffled six, and Beca wonders if time has somehow slowed down around her or if her heart is really beating as quickly as it seems. “I thought maybe,” the sky glows pink, and purple, and blue, “you might want to start a new one,” as four reaches three, “with me?” And Chloe tugs hard on her hand. Beca shifts, leaning over the arm of her chair just enough to ensure their lips can meet, and she misses two and one entirely.

 

She still sees the fireworks though.

 


End file.
